"Please, could it not be me? I want to avenge my father." -"Prince Caspian" Ch. 13. When Caspian insists on being the one to duel Miraz, and Peter absolutely refuses, Susan is left to sort out the mess. Movie-based, or more correctly, spoiler-based.

This
is an odd little one-shot, because it's written for a movie that's
not really out yet. (Yup, that's becoming a bad habit of mine now.)
Anyways, I recently saw the Prince Caspian trailer—it looks
amazing!—and so, movie nut that I am, I've been busy reading all
these great spoilers on IMdb and NarniaWeb. (If you'd rather not read
any spoilers, or if you prefer book-based Narnia fanfics to
movie-based fanfics, you're free to turn back now. :-) For those like
me who are hanging onto every little juicy spoiler and tidbit of
information until May finally decides to roll around, I wrote this
story based on two of the main spoilers circulating the Narnia boards
right now.

First
off, it sounds as if, in the movie, Caspian and Susan will have a
more developed relationship than is otherwise suggested in the book.
Hmm. Is it romance? Friendship? I don't know. Personally, I'd rather
it not be a romance, but no matter what the case may be, I do think
it will be interesting to see those characters interact more. Also,
because the way the characters of Caspian and Peter are being
reworked (both are in their late teens), there will be some degree of
rivalry between them in terms of whose strategies to use, whose
leadership to follow, and of course... who gets to fight Miraz.

"Very
well, then," said Peter, "I'll send him a challenge to
single combat." No one had thought of this before.

"Please,"
said Caspian, "could it not be me? I want to avenge my father."

-Prince
Caspian , Ch. 13

Thunk.

Thunk.

A
pause. Then another—

Thunk.

Swish. A miss. He never missed.

Caspian
ducked his head angrily and bit back a curse. He was losing it—and
in more ways than one. He glowered at the tree. Over a dozen arrows
peppered its trunk, and one of them was still shuddering from its
recent impact. Caspian ignored the near perfect hits. Lowering his
bow, he crossed the clearing to retrieve the single arrow that had
flown wide. He barely noticed the briars pricking his hands as he
worked the shaft free of a stubborn bush—he was far too angry for
any pain to register right now. Storming back to his position at the
end of the clearing, he took hasty aim at the tree once again. For
one glorious, horrible moment, he couldn't help but imagine Peter's
face in place of the tree trunk. That spiteful, arrogant
little boy-king who—

Thunk.

Caspian
blinked. At the dead center of the trunk, quavering at eye-level, was
an arrow buried deeply into the wood. But not his arrow—his
was still poised on the string. Before he had time to become really
alarmed, though, a slender figure stepped into view from the side.
Susan.

Caspian
was annoyed. He was in no mood to talk to anybody at the moment,
especially one of the Pevensie children. And although he didn't
know Susan very well, he knew that she was sure to have taken her
brother's side. So, unsure of what to do, Caspian shifted his focus
back to the tree trunk, took aim, and released.

Thunk.

Caspian
allowed himself a small smile. His arrow had struck just below
Susan's—a clean, deep shot. Throwing her a glance, he saw her nod
her head in reply.

"You're
good," she said simply.

Caspian
shrugged. "So are you." He had to admit, she really was. Relaxing
somewhat, Caspian lowered his bow. She did the same.

She
studied him briefly. "Caspian, why are you practicing now? And why
alone?" she asked. "The others are all back at camp, you know,
preparing for tomorrow."

"Wishing
your brother well, no doubt." Caspian bit his lip—the words had
sounded much more spiteful than he had wanted.

"Oh."
Susan gave him a knowing look, one that he found rather annoying. "So that's what this is all about, then."

Caspian
decided not to answer. He knew it wouldn't do to take his
frustrations out on the girl, but if she was going to try to extract
some sort of confession or apology from him, then… Scowling, he
stomped over to a nearby outcropping of rock and angled himself
against it, his back purposefully towards her. But after just a
moment's hesitation, Susan joined him.

She
wasn't just going to leave him alone, Caspian realized. Well, that
didn't mean he was going to talk to her, either. A few quiet
moments passed. Caspian kept glancing in Susan's direction, to see
whether she would show any signs of preparing to leave. But no, the
girl was perched placidly along the side of the rock, unaware—or
more likely, pretending to be unaware—of the fact that she was not
wanted. Finally, Caspian gave up pretending to ignore her.

"Well,"
he said shortly, "what is it you want, then?" He hoped he didn't
sound quite as annoyed as he felt.

She
looked at him thoughtfully. "Well, to begin with, I should like to
see you come out of this dreadful sulk you've been in for the past
few days."

He
glared at her through a dark fringe of hair. "I have not
been sulking."

"Well,
all right then, if you say so," she replied with false brightness.
Caspian looked at her suspiciously.

"No, you haven't really been sulking," she went on
brightly. "You've only been decidedly irritable and sullen
whenever anyone tries to approach you. You've only kept to yourself
as much as possible these past few days, which is unlike you. You've
only been pointedly ignoring my older brother, and—" she added
lightly, the corner of her mouth turned up, "—the last time you did speak with him, both of you were quarreling like spoiled
children over a coveted toy." As she finished speaking, her tone
became more regal—and at the same time, more condescending.

That
was when Caspian lost it. Pushing himself away from the rock, he
turned to face Susan, a dark gleam in his eyes.

"This
'toy' that you speak of, my lady," he hissed, slipping
into more formal speech, as Susan had done, "represents nothing
less than my right to avenge my father, and I am most loathe
to watch your brother Peter deprive me of that right."

Susan
opened her mouth to speak, but Caspian pressed on, angry now. He
paced as he spoke, occasionally touching the hilt of his sword with
his right hand, almost as if to draw it.

"Your
brother may be the High King of old, but he has no right to step into my rightful place and challenge Miraz to a duel that is mine
to fight! Was it his father who was murdered in cold blood? His uncle who continually fed him lies about the land and
people he was one day to rule?" Caspian ranted on as Susan watched
him silently. "Was it his family, his own flesh and blood,
who cared so little for him that they were ready to kill him off as
soon as a truer heir was born? How can I call myself a king unless I
am able to do justice to those who have wronged me and my family?"
His voice seemed to falter a bit at the word 'family' and some of
the fire left his eyes.

Caspian
let out a deep breath, dropping his head a little bit as Susan
continued to watch him carefully. His anger was spent now. He still
felt miserable, but freeing those words that had been festering
inside him during the past few days had done at least some good. He
sighed and sank heavily back down to the rock beside Susan.

"How"—he
began again, quietly this time—"How can I truly call myself a
king of Narnia… when your brother Peter wants to keep that honor
only for himself?"

Susan
touched his arm gently. "That's not true."

"What isn't?"

"You
say you're upset because Peter is unwilling to share his rule of
Narnia with you, or anyone else, for that matter."

Caspian
suddenly felt rather silly. He hadn't meant to imply that the rule
of the three younger sovereigns had been inconsequential compared to
that of High King. The legends of Old Narnia had always been clear on
one thing—there had been four sovereigns and four thrones on the
dais of Cair Paravel. Four equal thrones, each established by the
Lion Aslan, and no single one higher or more ornate than the other.

Caspian
looked at Susan with a sudden respect. "However did you manage
it?" he asked with a confused shake of his head. "All those years
ago, when you were the four kings and queens of Narnia, how did you
ever manage not to… well, be at each others' throats constantly?"
He had been about to say, 'off each other,' but had thought
better of it.

"It was by Aslan's grace, and because we loved each other, I
suppose." Susan looked thoughtful, as if trying hard to remember
something. "It all seems so long ago now… We all knew our
strengths and places… both as a family and as rulers of Narnia.
Lucy"—she smiled—"Lucy was the Valiant one, the one who held
us all together. Edmund was the Just one, quick to act and quick to
forgive, and he defended even the lowliest of our subjects. I was
called the Gentle, I suppose, because I preferred to help my brothers
and sister through words and diplomacy, instead of on the
battlefield." She fingered her bow absently, drawing her thumb in
familiar strokes down the seasoned wood.

"And Peter?" Caspian prompted.

Susan's eyes flashed with pride, and she looked at Caspian as if
challenging him to deny her next words. "Peter was our protector.
He was the Magnificent one, our warrior and shield. If any of us were
ever in trouble," she went on firmly, "Peter wouldn't hesitate
to put himself in harm's way if it meant keeping the rest of us
safe." Her serious expression dissolved into a smile that played at
the corner of her mouth. "Rather foolish of him, really. And we
loved him for it."

Caspian frowned. The idea of Peter being protective and
self-sacrificing—not to mention magnificent, of all
things—certainly didn't fit with what Caspian had seen of the
boy-king.

"Well, perhaps what you see as protectiveness, I see as
arrogance," he blurted out. "I still don't see why he thinks he
ought to be the one to challenge my uncle in single combat." The
words sounded childish even to him, and he flushed, dipping his head
forward so that Susan couldn't see.

She must have seen anyway, or at least guessed correctly, if her
smile was any indication. "Well, aside from the fact that he bested
you at swordplay not three days ago—no, let me finish," she
raised a hand to cut off his protests. "I didn't say that he
didn't have the better weapon, or that it wasn't a close fight.
You are quite skilled too, Caspian. But Peter did win, and
what's more, he did it fairly. And besides," she continued,
finally withdrawing her hand from his arm—strange, Caspian had
almost gotten used to having it there—"there is another very good
reason why Peter has got to be the one to fight your uncle, and it
has absolutely nothing to do with your skill in battle."

He peered at her expectantly. "Well, what is it, then?"

She let out a patient—and to Caspian, infuriating—little sigh as
though she were explaining the most obvious thing in the world.
"Caspian, you do realize that you are Narnia's best and last
hope, don't you?"

He blinked owlishly. Well yes, he knew that, but for some reason, it
was strange to hear it put that way.

"Our rule is over," she continued very seriously. "Peter's,
Edmund's, Lucy's, and mine, that is. Cair Paravel is gone, and so
is the Golden Age of Narnia." Her voice shook very slightly, and
Caspian thought he saw a trace of wetness about her eyes. But she
turned to look staunchly at him nonetheless. "Caspian, if this land
is to survive, it must do so under your rule, not ours. That's
why Peter's insisted that he be the one to challenge Miraz.
I know you want to be the one to avenge your father, Caspian, but you
must understand. My brother is doing everything he can to keep you alive."

And
this is the sort of gratitude I've been showing him, Caspian
finished silently. I hated him for it. He blinked again,
thinking, and it occurred to him how dense he must seem to Susan.
During the past few days, he had relished the thought of fighting his
uncle to the death, but the thought had never occurred to him—or if
it had, he had carelessly brushed it aside—that he might not emerge
the victor. Miraz was an unquestionably skilled and seasoned warrior,
and anyone who was brave enough or foolish enough to face him in
single combat was probably just as likely to be killed as not. True,
Peter was still far too arrogant for his own good—Caspian could see
that clearly, even if Susan couldn't—but perhaps the same could
be said of him.

Susan,
thankfully, let him sit silently for a few moments while he mulled
everything over. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Susan,"
he began awkwardly, "I think… I think I've been rather a fool.
And… an arrogant and ungrateful fool at that," he added in a
rush.

She
laughed, but not unkindly. "Glad you've finally seen it that
way," she teased. "I was getting worried that you were going to
be as stubborn about this as Peter was." She leaned towards him and
whispered conspiringly, "I had to straighten him out too,
earlier, about the way he was treating you, and let me tell you,
lecturing three kings of Narnia in a single afternoon is
exhausting work."

Caspian
raised an eyebrow. "Three?"

"Edmund," she said flatly, as if that explained everything. "He
came to me earlier, saying that if you and Peter were going to be so
bullheaded as to who should fight your uncle, he might as well 'do
the bloody task himself.' At first I thought he was joking, but he
was dead serious. He had even written a letter to your uncle
explaining the change in plans." She threw up her hands,
exasperated.

"Well,"
he said, wincing, "it's nice to know I'm not the only one who
ended up looking rather like a fool."

She
rolled her eyes at that. "Ridiculous boys, all of you," she said
fondly, pretending to cuff him on the side of his head.

Caspian
laughed, ducking her mock blow. His spirits were considerably higher
now, and he leapt to his feet—in an admittedly less than gallant
move—to sweep a very gallant bow to Susan. "Well then, my
lady, would you permit one such 'ridiculous boy' to escort you
back to the encampment?" Then he added, a bit more seriously, "I
believe I must seek an audience with the High King of Narnia."

"Hmm."
She tapped her lip with a long finger, as if considering, but her
eyes were smiling. "Yes, I suppose that will do, good sir. Provided
that should we happen upon any more of your evil relatives, you will
solemnly swear not to fight them to the death."

Caspian
smirked at her light teasing, but his eyes were solemn. "You have
my word, Queen Susan."

She
smiled as he helped her to her feet.

And
then there really was nothing more that needed to be said.

—fin—

Loved
it? Hated it? Please let me know, even if that means leaving just one
word or two. :-)

Oh,
and kudos to whoever can tell me what a dais is. (Just so you know,
the title is supposed to read 'daises' not 'daisies'.)

Note (2/28): Does anyone know how to indent paragraphs on this site? Apparently, just pushing the tab button isn't enough, because it's not working for me, lol.

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